


dizzying

by bylass



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Love Confessions, Post-Time Skip, Sauna, overworked and lowkey pining you know how it is with them, some ambiguous time mid war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 16:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21358993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bylass/pseuds/bylass
Summary: There's no decorum for politely lying on top of his dear friend who, in his head, is much more than that.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 35
Kudos: 464





	dizzying

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to go in a ficlet collection but it uh turned out longer than I thought. You guys know the drill already, the dlc dropped and I had one brain cell, I was possessed--

Every day for a week, Claude badgers Byleth to take more breaks—maybe use the sauna for once since they finally rebuilt and restocked it. "We all know you're amazing, but you neglect your own limits," he says.

"You spend longer hours than _me_ working," she retorts. 

So _both_ of them end up in the sauna at some ungodly time of night, because neither agree to go unless the other does. Claude had screwed up his sleeping schedule anyway and Byleth confided in him about nightmares keeping her up, so the sauna might genuinely be the most rest they'll get. They run in eagerly after making a trek across a briskly windy Garreg Mach, and soon, it's just them on the benches in the company of tea lights.

"Can I pour more water in?" Byleth asks. She already added some earlier.

Claude nods, but minutes later, steam seems to choke him and the heat is becoming too much. The Almyran summers are going to kill him when he goes back.

"You look a little dizzy." She frowns, rising again. "Maybe we should go."

"No, I should get used to this, I'm—" He tries standing along with her and only makes it halfway up before his whole body starts tilting downwards. Byleth leaps to grab him. He stumbles, taking her down, too.

"_Oof!_"

Byleth breaks his fall. That jerks him awake. Claude pushes up on his elbows, the rush of blood threatening to make him faint again, but he shakes his head and manages to brace himself. Underneath him—

_Underneath him—_

—is a very red-all-over Byleth staring back. Their legs are crossed together and with every slide of movement, his brain shorts out. Her bare thighs, her shirt ridden up—he hasn't fantasized about this exactly, but his immediate thought is_ why hasn't he?_ The thin clothes they wear in the sauna, shapeless as they are, leave little to the imagination once his entire body is pressed against hers—

"Shit," he mutters aloud. He's gaping. He should have scrambled off a full minute ago. 

Before he does, Byleth hooks two fingers into his shirt and holds him there. With his dizziness, he thinks he only imagines her whisper of, "Wait." His vision swims with mint before focusing on her mouth, where her shallow breathing is distracting in every way. Her lips move but no words come out; at this point, she's staring as much as he is.

"Is my face really that interesting?" Claude manages with a puff of a laugh.

Byleth doesn't answer. Did she just get redder? The room is definitely getting hotter. Every second that passes pummels him with more questions—does he move? Offer to move? Be quippy again and hope it doesn't come off too lewd? At worst, he's rude when he's nervous; at best—well, at best he doesn't get into the situation at all.

There's no decorum for politely lying on top of his dear friend who, in his head, is much more than that.

And he doesn't want to break this spell. He wants this moment to last as long as possible so he can convince himself it's actually happening. Only the stars know how long he's waited for any of his far-flung dreams to come true. It's cruel to give him only a taste_._

Her fingers skid down his chest. Claude would never call Byleth a _tease_—he'd sooner call her _forbidden_ or _unattainable_, but the graze of her touch can't be interpreted as anything else. As she tilts her chin up, reckless hope constricts him. "We shouldn't," she murmurs, "but—" 

He swallows, running his hand through her hair so he can cradle the back of her neck, and he sees her wet her lips even though she hardly needs to with the humidity. He wants her, but it was always the wrong time, and this is definitely the wrong time, wrong place. He wants to be romantic about it, or at least _prepared_. There are a million things he can't control in the war; he thought he could control this much, but now he's on the sauna floor, tangled in a position that would have Seteth building a six-foot-thick brick wall between them if he saw. He's done _pranks_ better planned than this. "Byleth, I… you know that I—"

"Yeah. Me too."

His lips just graze hers, the last thread of him holding back, convincing him that they haven't crossed any lines yet, that there's still time to pull away. Like in so much else, neither will agree to move forward unless the other does, because some lines are meant to be crossed hand in hand.

Byleth grips the front of his shirt and his whole body lurches with his heart as she pulls him down and Claude wraps his arms around her at the same time. In a corner of his mind, he realizes that maybe he convinced himself she was unattainable because he's never wanted anything else more, and gods, what a terrifying thought.

Then their lips crash together and he forgets about that and everything about where they are and war and paperwork, and only thinks of _her_ and _here_. 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter [@bylass_](https://twitter.com/bylass_) !


End file.
